Contributed by: Dr. Equbal Wajid
[ An extract from the author’s autobiography]
I wouldn’t like to held responsible Dr. Syed Hasan for the death of my 5 years old son, who slipped and sunk into an unfenced ditch, filled with water, adjacent to my family quarter at Insan College. It was a rainy season. The whole Kishanganj was flooded. I was out of my house with a Jamat [Tabligh Party] who came from Malaysia. The Amir e Jamat [ Leader of the group] was a lean and slim man form Penang. His name was Abdul Maalick. He had been attending Nezamuddin [ Tableegh Centre Delhi] regularly. The Jamat [Tabligh Party] was shifted to Ghaspatti Masjid, in the down town, Kishanganj by late night. After the morning prayer the whole party got asleep. It was in a deep sleep. Just merely an hour has passed, I was suddenly awakened by someone out of my deep slumber. I got up rapidly from my bed. Nobody was there. All were sunk in deep sleep. My heart started beating speedily. I tried to restore my equilibrium. Who awoke me from my sound sleep?
After sometime when again I was trying to be asleep, two of my Tableeghi colleagues [ Firoz Bhai & Sohail Bhai] came to me and asked me to be ready. I didn’t questioned any more but tried to assume that something may had happened uncommon. We were going to Insan College by rickshaw. In the way I saw people gazing at me in strange. Then I believed that someone has died or there may have something happened seriously wrong. I asked Firoz Bhai:
“What happened?’
He told me “ AAP KA BACHCHA PANI MEIN DOOB GAYA HAI”
[Your son has died of sinking].
When I entered my house I saw the dead body of my son Ruman laying on an wooden cot. My wife sobbed. My elder daughter cried. I was silent. There were no tears in my eyes.
I remember, I send somebody to an wood-factory nearby to buy some wooden plates to cover the grave. It all came in 25 or 30 rupees. The residents of Singhiya Village adjacent to the College Campus, prepared the grave free of cost. Then I went to the market to buy white fabric to bury the dead body within. In Churipattti, market [Kishanganj] I stopped at a cloth shop. The shop keeper was a friend to mine. I had no money but I intended to take it on credit. The shop keeper felt pity on me and gave me the KAFAN [White fabric] free of cost, he refused to give it on credit and said:
“YEH MERI TAFAF SE HADYA HAI , QUBOOL KAR LIJEIY”
[It is a gift from my side, kindly accept it].
When I was looking for the fabric, on my request he displayed some more varieties of white clothes but he insisted me to take a low quality which I don’t like. If I would have cash in my hand I must have purchased a good quality of KAFAN [White fabric] for my dearest son Ruman. I regret, what can I do now for this repentance?
Hence, I have the dishonorable shame to say that, I, then the honorable Lecturer in Urdu in Insan College and the unlucky father of my dead child RUMAN couldn’t afford to buy a KAFAN [White fabric] for him from my own pocket. I know, these lines will not be regarded as an insult on the social standing of the owner of the Insan College, Padamashree Dr. Syed Hasan, who came to attend the funeral prayer of my son.
An hour later my Jamat Party came to condole me. The dead body was laying on an wooden cot. I saw Abdul Malick [the leader of the Party from Malaysia] looked at the face of my dead son and smiled, and then turned to me, he gazed at my face and smiled raising his eyebrows slightly, I also smiled slightly in response. The smile of Abdul Malick could be strange for anyone but it was understandable to me, as I have heard the saying of the prophet of the Humanity Muhammad [peace be on him] that the small children of a Muslim if died could be accounted as a big grace for his parent in the hereafter and as a source of attracting Allah’s forgiveness to them.
I lead the funeral-prayer of my son under a bamboo shed which was a previously a class room of Insan College. Then the dead body was brought to the nearby Graveyard of Singhiya village. In this way the graveyard of Singhiya Village became the loveliest graveyard for me. The piece of land where my 5 years old son Ruman is buried is dearest to me than all other pieces of land, except that of Mecca and Medina. Even after that I left Kishanganj, I use to take a trip of Kishanganj every year to visit his grave regularly. My elder daughter Milky dreamt the other day that Ruman is smiling in a garden, he was dressed in a bright-green outfit. We were happy to know this dream. After few years I visited the grave, I saw that its height has come to the surface and a piece of blue plastic which had been placed up on the wooden plates under the clay is peeping outside the grave.
Although the School and College campuses were made of series of bamboo’s huts covered with certain kind of grass, and it looked very beautiful, but it was never made technically strong matching to the resist the slaps of the seasonal air-storm.
Every year more than 50% of the huts were being destroyed, and it always took more money and time to repair them, but it never made Dr. Syed Hasan to think on solid structures. The life of the students were unsafe in the windstorms. No safety precautions had been taken to save the lives of the students and staff. Whenever the windstorm could come the students cry out of danger. They saw through their necked eyes that the huts are coming down. Even sometimes it already happened worst. Once, in the eight class campus, when the windstorm came at night, while sleeping, a child came under a falling cottage and died. Nobody dared to held Dr. Syed Hasan responsible for the loss of his life.
During the windstorms I have experienced the worst miserable conditions. I was living with my family. When at the night as we get the noise of the windstorm we take all our children under our wooden cots and lay down. My children cried:
“ALLAH JI …… YA ALLAH ….YA AALLAH …ABBU …ABUU JI…..ALLLAH JI ….YA ALLAH KEYA KAREN…YA ALLA H KAHAN JAAEN…. ABBU……ABBU….” [ Allah …Oh .. Allah ..Father……Oh …my Father……Oh Allah…Oh Allah ….what should we do… Oh..Father ….Oh…Father….? Oh Allah ….where should we go?].
The Cottage started trembling and we listen the sound of the other cottages breaking down in our neighbor, we use to keep silent and wait for our term. Then, after 40 or 50 minutes the windstorm could have gone and then we could come out of our cots and spend the rest of the night fearfully. The next morning when we could come out of our cottage we could see that scores of huts has been destroyed.
What were the secrets in running the whole institution in Bamboo’s huts Allah knows better. We can only say that in 25 years of time span, running an institution in bamboo’s huts while owning hundreds of acres of private land, can never be regarded as farsightedness and sincerity to the Nation and a as a sincere intention to build an institution for the future generation. It was just a temporary phase to gain reputation through mesmerizing the mass as well as the Government.
It happened after 25 years that all the campuses which were being run in 90’s no more exist at their site, except the land which still remains without structure. I have heard that now a days the big College Campus, 9th Class Campus, 8th Class Campus, 7th , 6th and 4th & 5th Class Campuses, and 7 or 8 big play grounds, where sometimes students lived, studied and played have turned into agriculture fields. This was the fate of the proposed Insan University where we dreamt to be known as University Teachers, and for which the people of Kishanganj awaited for a long time to enroll their children. I salute; Director Dr. Syed Hasan for this success, who has been awarded the Honorable Padmshree award for his remarkable services. [ to be continued]
Disclaimer: The content of the article is the personal views / experience of the author (contributor). Kishanganj Blog (Md Mudassir Alam) is not responsible for any type of personal remarks or any objectionable statement made by the author.
